


Poor Sam

by FrancesHouseman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, PWP, Sibling Incest, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancesHouseman/pseuds/FrancesHouseman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets an unexpected gift that's just too good to pass up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poor Sam

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this :)

 

 

Dean is just never going to let this go. Drugged by a fangirl and tied to her bed for fuck’s sake. At least he still has underwear on. And where did Becky learn to tie knots anyway? A secret background in the Marine Corps possibly, judging by the way Sam just cannot escape, which is ridiculous because he has escaped impossible situations with terrifying bloodcrazed monsters. He really really doesn’t want Dean to find him like this but it’s going to happen and there’s real panic rising in his chest at the thought. It’s not fair. Dean is going to laugh and keep laughing at him for a week. He’s going to take photos and prank Sam with them until they’re either old or dead. _Please, please God, if you can hear me, let me up. Please? Please?_ Oh fuck.

 

Sam imagines what Dean sees. Becky’s got him trussed up pretty well, spread-eagled in a pair of stupid boxer shorts. He can imagine Dean’s smirk. Sam plays dead but there’s really no way of fooling Dean into thinking he’s sleeping. It’s almost an insult to Dean after a lifetime of sleeping in the same room, and a good deal in the same bed. Sam’s desperate. It’s like a backlog of all the birthday presents due to Dean all in one go.

 

“Smile sweetheart.”

 

Oh God he’s started with the photos. Sam tries to turn his head into his arm and keeps his eyes closed. He knows it will just prolong his misery but he can’t help it. “Fuck off Dean.”

 

“Ah, c’mon Sammy, let’s see those pretty peepers,” *click* “Look atchoo, all trussed up, did the little lady getchoo?” *click* “Must be stronger than she looks, or you’re a big girlie Sammy,” *click* “Or did she just ask you nicely eh?” *click* “ _Please let me tie you up Sam? I’ll tickle your dick real nice._ ” *click*

 

“DEAN!”

 

“Aw, Sammy. You blushing? C’mon, open your pretty eyes for the camera eh?”

 

Sam opens his eyes because he’s going to have to eventually. He glares at Dean, who looks like the most evil thing, practically cackling with glee. If he had fangs then Sam would be sure he was done for but Dean isn’t going to eat him, he’s just going to make sure that Sam’s life is one of misery and humiliation from now on. He stares at the ceiling as though he could plead with it to crash down on them both.

 

“That’s it Sammy,” *click* “How about a smile,” *click* “Such a happy occasion.” *click*

 

Sam’s not getting out of this for a while because it’s way too much fun for Dean. He sees Dean eyeing the ropes and assessing Sam’s comfort, deciding he’s fine. Damnit. Dean’s scanning around the room and his eyes rest on Becky’s dressing table. There are all manner of products just sitting there.

 

“What the fuck?! Dean!” Oh God. Was Dean born sadistic? Maybe it’s the result of years of repression when any normal older brother would have been torturing his younger brother in childhood, and have done with it, instead of being forced to nurture and protect. Sam would never do this to Dean. Well, maybe the laughing and the photos, but never the makeup.

 

“Dean! Get me the fuck out of this now!”

 

“Temper temper Sammy.” The tip of Dean’s tongue pokes out at the corner of his mouth while he concentrates. “Y’know, I think coral might be your color Sam.”

 

Sam’s trying to get away but there’s nowhere to go. He shakes his head from side to side but Dean gets a handful of hair and it hurts if he struggles. He clamps his lips so that Dean can’t get the lipstick on them but Dean just jabs him in the ribs and Sam’s mouth opens in a silent laugh/scream. They do this five times before Sam gets the message that if there isn’t lipstick then there will be merciless tickling, so Sam keeps his lips still, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, while Dean makes him all pretty. The hardest thing is to stay quiet. He scrunches his eyes closed again and tries to pretend he’s somewhere else.

 

*Click*

 

Dean’s laughing in delight. Sam chances a look and, _What the hell?_ “Dean!” It’s an undignified squeak but surely Sam can be forgiven because his brother is drawing heart shapes around his nipples with coral lipstick. Sam throws his head back repeatedly onto the bed. Where’s a hard surface when you need to hurt yourself?

 

“Well hey, lookit.” Dean grins wider. Sam’s half hard in his shorts and Dean has noticed, of course he has. It’s not the first time Dean’s given Sam a hard on and laughed at his discomfort. It’s practically part of the older brother job description as far as Dean is concerned. “Ooooh Sammy, enjoying this? Didn’t know lipstick was your thing. Kinky baby.”

 

This is worse than awful. He’s getting harder. He tries to will it away but his body isn’t listening. Apparently his body really likes being drawn on and laughed at. Fuck fuck fuck. Sam wants to cry. But come on, he’s a warrior. It’s just Dean with a tube of lipstick and… oh no. Please no.

 

Dean is standing at the foot of the bed. He has snapped a few photos and Sam’s dick is tenting his shorts and it will be obvious in the pictures. He really wants to be able to hate that idea but apparently it’s fucking hot and his dick swells all the way to full and twitches a bit for good measure.

 

Dean waggles his eyebrow and says, “Oh really?” Then his eyes fall to Sam’s feet. Sam’s bare, helpless, exposed feet.

 

Sam shrieks “No!” at the same time that Dean grabs his foot and tickles. He wiggles all his fingers on Sam’s sole and Sam tries to tear his leg away but of course there’s no hope. All he achieves is a tiny bit of leeway to thump the back of his knee repeatedly down on the bed. He’s making a panicked almost-scream that is way too high pitched and desperately trying not to laugh. If he laughs then it’s all over because Dean will get addicted and keep going until he’s all laughed out.

 

But Dean’s laughing. He looks completely carefree, almost childlike. Some deep part of Sam wants to join in and just laugh with his brother because it’s infectious and they _deserve_ to be happy.

 

“Oh Sammy Sammy Sammy.” Dean grabs at the other foot and tickles both. Sam can’t help the huffing laughs that are being forced out of him. He’s so screwed. His body has to struggle, has to try and get away and he alternates between jerking his legs up and down and then, as the panic escalates and the laughing threatens to bubble over completely, lifting his hips and straining right up off the bed. Dean’s fingers wiggle stroke and scratch softly all around his toes and it makes Sam a little crazy.

 

He would have said that tickling was an erection killer but sadly not. Sam’s poor body is so confused. Fighting his ropes is making it very clear that he’s helplessly at Dean’s mercy and Dean is a certified sadist from hell, and for some reason it’s the sexiest thing that has ever happened to Sam. He doesn’t want to have a hard on for being systematically taken apart by his big brother but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it and God, that’s only making him harder. He thrashes and strains but the laughter is getting louder and his struggles weaker. He’s never seen Dean looking so pleased.

 

“No! Stop! Dean! Naaghahahahaha!”

 

There’s no way Dean’s stopping because this is way too good. Sam’s laughter was barking, almost painful at first, but now it’s coming easy and constant, rolling out like he can’t stop, and he can’t because Dean’s not letting him. Sam feels his smile, huge and dimpled. His face is hot with exertion and Dean’s looking at him as though he’s a cute puppy.

 

Dean concentrates on one foot and then the other. Sam pumps his hips with that big tent in his shorts and he knows it’s lewd but he’s not in control. Dean looks maybe a bit flushed too but he has clothes to hide in and Sam has other things to concentrate on right now.

 

Sam can’t take anymore. He keeps thinking this and it keeps coming anyway. Dean has moved up to tickle over, around and behind his knees, up his thighs, above the line of his shorts, pausing to look pointedly between Sam’s straining hard on and his face. A spurt of precome escapes when he does this and Sam wildly hopes that Dean won’t notice the wetness in the stupid heart patterned material.

 

Of course Dean remembers all Sam’s ticklish spots from when they were kids and he pokes, wriggles and scrubs his fingertips in Sam’s ribs making Sam howl. And the panic’s coming back now because the most ticklish place on Sam’s body is under his arms. Dean knows it and he’s tormenting Sam, taking his time getting up there. Sam struggles harder, trying so hard to pull his arms down against the ropes, pushing the rest of his body up as far as he can. It’s no use because there’s very little room for movement and when Dean gets his fingers right into Sam’s armpits Sam tries to scream but it just comes out as loud deep laughter, spilling right up from his belly, and he humps his body around as hard as he can to try and escape it.

 

There are tears in Sam’s eyes and Dean lets him breathe. He makes a few false starts towards Sam’s armpits just to see Sam’s body spasm and hear him beg. The thrashing around has made Sam’s hair all sweaty and Dean brushes the strands away from Sam’s eyes. Sam moves into the touch without meaning to and Dean’s eyes flicker with interest. He fetches fluffy pink bunny slippers from the door and slips them over the ends of Sam’s twitching feet. Then he retrieves his phone and takes a photo looking down Sam’s body to his feet. He reaches out his index finger, stopping just short of touching the wet spot, leaving no doubt about what he’s pointing to. Sam’s dick twitches up towards his hand.

 

“Tickling make you all horny baby boy? Tickling and kinky bondage and your big brother’s hands all over you?”

 

Oh God! What is Dean doing? He feels all loose and sensitive from the tickling and he really really wants Dean to touch his dick. He must look ridiculous with lipstick on his lips and round his nipples, stupid big fluffy slippers on and heart patterned shorts doing nothing to hide his extreme arousal for his _brother_. Sam at least wants to be able to keep still and quiet but he can’t anymore. He whimpers and rolls his hips, squirms and twists his head far to the side in shame.

 

The feeling of his boxer shorts being removed takes Sam completely by surprise. He lifts his head to watch because this is different and Dean is crossing the line, just like that. It’s not only Sam’s shame anymore if Dean does this. “Dean, what are you doing?” His voice sounds deeper in his own ears, heavy with arousal. Dean looks up, heavy lidded, eyes dark, chewing on half of his bottom lip and Sam lets himself think, now, about wanting those lips wrapped around him.

 

“Want me to stop Sammy?” Dean keeps still, holding the elastic of the shorts but not touching otherwise. Sam lets his head fall back, his heart hammering at rabbit pace and dick throbbing so close to Dean’s hands. There are a lot of unspoken things that make it unlikely to stop in this room. There’s the incest thing and they’ll both be going _back_ to hell, but maybe this time they can go together and maybe Dean can just torture Sam the whole time because he thinks he’d maybe like to do that for eternity, that maybe they’d both like that, and there’s no way Sam can say no to this.

 

“No. Don’t stop.”

 

“S’what I thought.” His shorts slide off and Sam anticipates a hand on his dick, prays for it, strains towards it, but Dean is back at the dressing table and Sam is completely exposed, ridiculous erection wagging around in the air.

 

Dean has a small red silky scarf, he ties it in a bow around the base of Sam’s dick and Sam shivers at the feel of the soft material and groans at the humiliation. Then he goes back and fetches a small tube of makeup ( _mascara_ Sam’s mind helpfully provides) and expensive looking facecream.

 

“Dean! What the… no! Dean! NO!” It’s no good because Dean has gone right back into full on evil mode. He lubes up the tube with the facecream and Sam clenches against it but the end of the tube is gently rounded, and it’s only tiny, and it slips in. Sam throws his head back embarrassed once again beyond belief. Little dribbles of precome give him away, spilling down towards the bow.

 

Finally, _finally_ , Dean closes his hand around Sam’s dick and gives him a few long pulls. Sam’s going to jizz all over his brother in less than a minute and it will be the worst and most damning humiliation in this whole thing and he’s not in control of any of it. Dean wiggles the mascara tube in his ass and Sam doesn’t even make it to fifteen seconds. He shouts, “Arrrghh!” and pumps all over his stomach and chest, and Dean’s hand, while Dean laughs at him and strokes him through it.

 

“Oh Sammy, so sexy,” Dean crouches by the bed, resting his head on Sam thigh, face so close to the sticky mess of his groin that he must be deep in the smell of it. He’s definitely turned on but he just rests there for a moment, pressing his erection down. Then he gets Sam cleaned up, which is possibly even more embarrassing, removing the mascara and the bow, wiping everything down and untying him at long last.

 

Sam dresses and they sit side by side on Becky’s bed for a while. Dean's probably waiting for Sam to talk about it but really, what's to say? He's not about to relive it without conjuring a good deal of awkwardness for himself, and there's only so much stress a man can take in one day. He still feels all loose and nice, so he just smiles.

 

Dean grins. He stands up and wiggles a tube of lip gloss under Sam’s nose. “Taking this one for later Sammy,” he says and Sam does his best surprise attack but Dean’s ready for him, out the door and taking the stairs three at a time. He won’t get very far. Sam has longer legs.

 

 


End file.
